Trial Separation
by Raynbowz
Summary: The Doctor is just getting over the death of the Master when another Time Lord comes on the scene-his wife. Many thanks to beta smaugwithablog and to D for just about everything. First in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Trial Separation

A Doctor Who story

1—A Nasty Shock

Warm water cascaded down the Tenth Doctor's back as he showered; it had been a grueling week for him and he had wanted to wash up even before he moved the TARDIS. He stepped out, dried off and got dressed in a clean suit. After that he went to the Console Room and tried to decide where to go to next. He'd spent the last year in the Erubis Cluster, and the year before that exploring the Wesachi galaxy, deliberately staying away from Earth. His current arrest and daring escape after freeing a civilization enthralled by a Hexricon had been par for the course except for the slime, hence the shower. He thought about using the Randomizer, but just wasn't in the mood. He sat down on the jump seat and mused, wishing he weren't so melancholy, but it was to be expected; it was The Anniversary. Two years ago in linear time the Master had died.

Two years. He wondered if he would feel this way in five years or ten, or a hundred. How long would it take him to get over losing the last existing member of his species, his only link with someone who knew him and the context through which he viewed the cosmos? When would he be able to fill or be accustomed to that kind of loneliness? His plan had been to follow the routine—land on a planet, get involved in some sort of disturbance, disaster, or uprising, get to the bottom of the matter and sort it all out, and then leave. Unfortunately he'd been following the pattern for two linear years now and the pain felt as wrenching as it had the first day.

_Stop it,_ he told himself sharply. _I don't have to be alone. I'll go visit someone, someone who might cheer me up. I know! I'll go and pop in on Jack; he's used to the unexpected._

He set the coordinates to Earth in 2014 and was about to materialize when one of the TARDIS' scanning screens started blinking. He looked, and saw something interesting—he had picked up the life signs of another TARDIS. He sighed morosely; it was the Master's TARDIS, had to be. He must have parked it on Earth and now that the Master was dead, it . . .

The Doctor stopped his line of thought, pondering. If the Master had had a working TARDIS, he wouldn't have needed to use the Doctor's to make a Paradox Machine; he could have used his own. Moreover, he wouldn't have used the Toclafane to hunt down Martha Jones; all he would have had to do was prime his TARDIS to lock onto her DNA and she would have been found almost instantly. It was wrong, something was wrong with his thesis; this couldn't possibly be the Master's TARDIS. That left only one conclusion: there was another TARDIS on Earth, meaning there might be another Time Lord on the planet.

The Doctor quickly locked on to the signal and changed the coordinates appropriately. He also did a scan for Gallifreyan life signs and found nothing. Well, he thought, the poor TARDIS was probably abandoned ages ago and the perception filter had finally broken down. He did one last sensor sweep and materialized his TARDIS as close as he could get to the other craft. He grabbed his coat, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

When he stepped out, he found himself outdoors with a large garage twenty feet in front of him, and another, smaller one about fifty feet behind him. There were little outbuildings to his right and a compact, rounded A-frame house to his left. It was cold though sunny, and there were traces of snow on the ground. All the buildings were painted a deep, rich brown nearly the color of his eyes, while a well-worn driveway of crushed grey stone went winding off and out of sight. The house and garages had light brown shingles on the roofs. The two smaller sheds seemed to be made of slabs of wood right off the trees, almost like log cabins, and they had black shingles on top. There didn't seem to be anyone else around.

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and started exploring. To his annoyance, he couldn't find the location of the other TARDIS. He should have been able to detect it easily, even if the perception filter was still active; why couldn't he find the dratted thing? He marched back into the TARDIS and brought out a hand scanner, more powerful than his screwdriver and able to pick up the faintest trace of signal, but he still couldn't lock it down; how frustrating! How was that TARDIS being hidden? It wasn't a perception filter, it wasn't plain physical disguise, what? Finally The Doctor took another reading and realized the location signal was being bounced back and forth between two or three different harmonics; someone was using a triangulating mask to hide the vehicle. He wouldn't be able to find it without shutting the mask off first. He went back in his TARDIS and looked for possible sources of power links between here and the first signals he had gotten pinpointing the other TARDIS. Finding a suspicious pattern in the harmonics, he set his TARDIS and materialized to the new location.

When he opened the door he was inside a small room on the second floor of some building. The room had almost nothing in it. There was a box of linens and towels in one corner, and a box with books in another. He snooped around and found what looked like a toolbox on a shelf in the closet. He took it down and found what he had been seeking—the controls for the triangulating mask. He was about to open the box the array was in, but something stopped him. He examined it more thoroughly and found that if he tampered with it too much, the box, and the TARDIS on the other end would explode. The Doctor sighed and put it back where he had found it. It had been a good thing he hadn't rattled it around too much; this type of fail-safe was usually rather sensitive to movement or "exploration".

He wandered through what had to be an apartment. There were the usual things like clothes and a bed, appliances for the kitchen, a sofa in the living room. He also found signs that the person living here could easily be a Time Lord hiding in a bio-data watch, just as the Master had been. There were very few possessions, and none of a personal nature, no photos or personal correspondence, no birth certificates or family information. All the bills in the small filing drawer only went back a few months, there was no television or computer, and the place didn't _feel_ lived in. He took one more look around then stopped rummaging; he'd found all that he was going to and now he just had to wait.

Late in the evening a light that must have been on a timer switched on. A few minutes later he heard someone coming up the stairs. He didn't try to hide; he just sat on the couch and waited. The door opened and revealed a middle-age woman with limp, greying light brown hair and a black coat. Her blue eyes were weary, hidden behind thick lenses, and she looked very thin, perhaps even _beyond _thin. She didn't seem either surprised or afraid; she just nodded and put down her bag. "You'll want to come with me," she told him.

"You were expecting me? You knew I would come?" The Doctor was shocked.

"I knew something was coming, but I thought you would be a little more . . ."

"Impressive? Stocky? Academic?"

"Terrifying. Never mind; you need to come with me in the morning."

The Doctor was puzzled. "Why not go now?"

"It's late and I don't want to have to drive in the dark."

"We don't need to drive," the Doctor protested. "I have transportation—it's in the other room. We can go right away . . ."

The woman shook her head. "I'm not ready."

"Just take a look at it," the Doctor pleaded, standing and urging her to the other room. "It'll save so much time . . ."

The woman looked into the room, blanched, and said in a faint but determined voice, "No. I won't go anywhere in _that_."

The Doctor was going to speak, but the woman held up a hand. "Please . . . you have invaded my home. Don't plan on kidnapping me as easily."

"Fine," the Doctor huffed, "in the morning." He didn't like it, but the woman was telling the truth; he would have problems if he tried to take her away by force. He went back to the couch while the woman turned on a light for him in the living room.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

"Sure," the Doctor told her.

She gave him an apple but didn't eat herself; she just took a handful of pills with some water. The Doctor wondered, but didn't say anything; it wasn't his business. Something was bothering him; he finally asked, "You're not the least bit curious as to who I am, where I'm from?"

The woman shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm sure we can figure it out in the morning. For now I've had a long day and want to unwind. I hope the couch is good enough to sleep on . . ."

"Oh, I won't need sleep. But don't feel uneasy about resting yourself, I'll—"

The woman looked directly into his eyes and said firmly, "You are a strange man in my house; I have no intention of going to sleep. You could do anything."

She grabbed a book from a prodigious bookshelf and sat down in a chair opposite the Doctor, then ignored him. He was unused to being dismissed in such a fashion, but didn't complain. She knew nothing about him and didn't owe him anything.

It was a long night.

In the morning, the woman drove the Doctor out to an unknown destination. She had asked if he wanted her to feed him, but he dismissed the offer with a shake of his head. He waited a bit impatiently while she got a few things together, then got into her electric blue car. The drive was very similar to the night they had just spent together; neither spoke or acted like the other was even there. This upset the Doctor slightly, but he knew he was partially to blame himself; he had not asked the woman's name or been forthcoming with his own, after all. Best to leave it now.

The drove for nearly an hour, getting further and further from urban areas as they went along. As they went along he noticed wildlife like deer and groundhogs and many types of birds. He appreciated the view; it gave him something to think about other than the uncomfortable silence. They finally pulled into a narrow driveway of grey crushed stone. They wound and twisted back into the woods until they reached . . . wait a minute . . . they were back where he had started! Here was the rounded house, the two outbuildings, the two garages, everything! "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded indignantly.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked, confused.

The Doctor's frustration just kept building. "Why are we here? I've already been here. I thought you were taking me somewhere I could find some answers and instead . . ."

He knocked over a bag that had been between them as they drove. Stuff tumbled out of the bag, including . . . there it was—a bio-data watch! He snatched it up then got out of the car and slammed the door behind him, quickly locking the woman in the car with the sonic screwdriver. He marched around to the driver's side of the vehicle, then stopped to consider what to do next. He decided to open the watch immediately; that would give him time to make the next move with his enemy reasonably contained. Squatting down close to the door of the car, he opened the watch and waited. When the process was complete he looked into the car and was so surprised he lost his balance and landed on his rear. The Time Lady was his wife, Maraltha-Hedronisicalimar!


	2. Chapter 2

2—A Long, Sad Story

The woman in the car banged on the window impotently as the strange man locked her in. She watched as he came around to her side, then felt something hot seep into every pore of her, burning as it went. She screamed, screamed . . .

. . . and remembered.

She had been a Time Lady named Maraltha-Hedronisicalimar. Everyone had called her Hedron. She was ambitious, dignified, proper, power-hungry. Even her misguided marriage to a complete enigma hadn't slowed her down. By the end of her second life, first regeneration, her troublesome husband had disappeared and she was poised to be placed on the High Council of Gallifrey and make herself a legend.

But it didn't happen as she'd planned. One night a Time Lord from the far future came as she read in her study and begged her to take on what she considered a noisome task—find her husband and plead with him to come back to Gallifrey. She was to ask him to help the Time Lords take on the Daleks, who were apparently on the edge of wiping out the entire cosmos. She didn't want to, but she agreed to go. She was outfitted with the newest TARDIS available, some clues on how to find the regeneration of her husband she was looking for, and thus prepared went on her mission.

She landed first in London in the early 1990's, but before she could find the Doctor she was captured by Torchwood One. She got away by activating the fail-safe she had built into her shoe so she could have her TARDIS materialize around her. She had planned to get clear away to Gallifrey and go back with her mission failed, but her TARDIS had barely enough power to land her back on Earth in a different time and place. Fearful she would be followed, she used the Chameleon Circuit on her TARDIS to hide it, then used the Chameleon Arch to make herself human. She'd led a quiet life with her husband James, an architect. Near the end of that life she found a letter that told her who she truly was, and she went back to her TARDIS and opened her bio-data watch . . .

Names, places, purposes—she recalled it all. More than that, she put it into perspective. Chilling perspective. She remembered her first life on a planet with an orange sky and red grass, and a transduction barrier over a high dome. She remembered a man called Gantoris-Althetalorenthidon, who wasn't like the rest. They had married to improve both families' political standing, but even before the ink on the certificate was dry she knew his quirks and ideals would be a great problem. He had the audacity to say he "loved" her! How primitive, how unexpected, how . . . insulting! She had power, position, and privilege; who needed love?

But now she knew what she had been offered—and how she had responded.

She thought back to those days, thinking of Theta's refusal to be a part of the political sphere (wasn't that why they had married in the first place?), his unending concern for those beneath him. Finally he decided to leave for a survey mission on a backward planet called Earth just to get away from the fights, the expectations.

But all that was nothing compared to how he was when he came back.

He had changed his name to some base, Earth term for someone who could heal. Worse than that, he told her he wanted to heal _her_. How impudent! There was nothing wrong with her, she stormed. The very idea was ridiculous. He even insisted onraising the children _at home _until they were Initiated, with him as their teacher. Whoever heard of such a ludicrous arrangement! She had only a decade or two before she would be on the High Council. She pleaded with him, begged him to keep his ideas and eccentricities to himself for at least that long. All she needed was one wrong step by him to derail her and she would be done. She reined him in as much as she could, turned the children away from him, dismissed him as an outcast, until . . .

Until the day he took Susan and vanished.

And now she had failed twice. Not only had she failed at her goal to get his help in the war effort, she realized she had been wrong. Wrong about his motives, his ideals, his dreams—and also her own.

She wept until she couldn't stand up any more, and flopped down next to her TARDIS. She wept until her eyes were so puffy they almost seemed to swell shut. She wept until there were no more tears in her, and then she moaned instead.

Well, it was too late now. Far, far too late.

She went into her TARDIS and did a quick scan for Gallifreyan tech on the planet but found nothing. She then tried scanning for any communications originating from her home planet. Again, nothing. Gallifrey had fallen, she was sure of it. It would only be a matter of time before the Daleks took over everything.

Well, the worst would come but there was no need for her to be burdened with the fact. She took some old parts she found in her TARDIS and made a triangulating mask to hide it so the Daleks wouldn't get it. She set up the mask in a box for transport, regenerated, and then went to the Chameleon Arch to program in a name for when she came out of the process. Her new name would be Adora—the word in Gallifreyan meant "mistaken", as in a fundamental, radical realization of wrongness. She felt it was fitting.

She ended up as a meek, unassuming middle-age librarian in the city of Erie, Pennsylvania. She set the triangulating mask on a shelf in the closet of the guest room, not remembering what it was. She had plenty of money and could have gone anywhere, but she just didn't have the energy. Adora planned on living out the rest of her life as a human, and dying as one of them.

And then the Doctor, her husband, had showed up four months into her second lifetime on Earth and was going to take it all away.


	3. Chapter 3

3—A Second Opinion

The Doctor stumbled back to his feet and waited for his wife to get out of the car, then recalled she was still locked in the vehicle. He released the locks and opened the door, saying, "Hedron, what an utter surprise. I never would have guessed . . ."

"It's Adora now, actually, and we don't have much time. I'm sure the Daleks are on their way even now to burn this planet out of Time and memory, and I'm not going to be a functioning Gallifreyan when they get here. Do what you want in your last years; I intend to forget what's coming."

The Doctor replied sadly, "The Daleks won't be coming, as it happens; I stopped them, but it cost me the whole planet and every living thing on it. Maybe some day I'll tell you, but for now you have all the time you want. Hedron, we—"

The woman sitting in the car glared at him. "I respected you enough to honor your choice of name, _Doctor_. I didn't think I'd have to ask for the same consideration from you."

"Very well, _Adora_. I have some questions. Which regeneration are you in, first of all?"

Adora told him, "Fifth life, but third regeneration. I heard you've been burning through your lives like Cinder grass in summer . . ."

"You're only in your third regeneration? When did they come to ask for my help?"

"In my first regeneration, near the end. I tried to find you, but Torchwood found me first, and then . . . I had to hide. I knew they knew I had a TARDIS and I didn't dare to have them keep it or me, so I hid. I'm not proud of it . . ."

The Doctor looked at her with compassion. "You did well. Torchwood would have had a field day with a working TARDIS and a Time Lady all at once. And I wouldn't have noticed you if my TARDIS hadn't been so insistent that I check her readouts . . ."

He looked at her again, appraisingly. "You can get out now, of course; I was just being cautious. The last time I found someone who had used a Chameleon Arch it was very unpleasant."

Adora stood to her feet, but didn't move away from the car. "Who else made it?"

"Koschei. He's dead now."

"Of course," Adora replied drily. "It would have to be him. All your skeletons pop up from out of the Void, all for your entertainment."

The Doctor held out a hand to her, and gently pulled her away from the car and out of the shadow of a tree. "You're hardly 'entertainment'—you're a living being, deserving of . . . my goodness, you look horrible! Oh, Hed—Adora, what have you done to yourself?"

Adora shrugged. "I was just marking time, waiting for death. Maybe my change couldn't hide the fact. I had nothing to live for; _have_ nothing, if you want to know the truth."

"We need to get you med scanned as soon as possible . . . I take it your TARDIS has a Medical Center?"

Adora tossed her head arrogantly. "Of course it does—what do you take me for? Unlike you, my TARDIS isn't a decrepit Type-40 being held together with worn-out time-chaining circuits and hope. I'll have you know my TARDIS is an up-to-date Type-90 and capable of—"

The Doctor took Adora firmly by the arm. "We can compare our vehicles later. Right now we need to get you scanned and taken care of."

"No."

The Doctor didn't let go. "Where is your TARDIS? You need proper medical attention, and soon. I'm surprised you're functioning at all. Once you're better we can—"

Adora stood up straighter. "I said no. I won't help you find it. I told you, I have nothing to live for. Let me go, so I can die in peace."

"Absolutely not. You're not in your right mind at the moment, and I'm not about to let the only other Time Lord in the Universe shrivel up and die when I can prevent it. You're _ill_, Adora. No one can make decisions like this when they're on the point of collapse. Once you're well, we can decide what we want to do."

"We?"

The Doctor looked at her full in the eyes. "We are the last of our kind. We're the only ones left who can travel the stars and times like other races take a sailboat out to sea for an afternoon. Even more than that, you're my wife, for Rassilon's sake."

Adora gave a mirthless laugh. "Let's be honest for once—what kind of marriage did we have? We didn't do anything but argue because of my pride and self-absorption. I took the love you offered and threw it back in your face. We didn't ever dance or go to the theater—sweet Rassilon, we didn't even _hold hands_ because of me. I turned your own children against you because I knew you would ruin my chance to get what I wanted. What kind of wife is that?"

"Is that why you won't accept my help—because it's me?"

Adora wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm ashamed," she whispered. "I don't deserve your help."

The Doctor was implacable. "I don't care if you don't deserve it. I am going to help you, because that's what I do. I will help you and then let you decide what kind of life you want to live, _live,_ Adora, not suffer through. But all that can wait. Where is your TARDIS?"

Adora got back in the car. At first, the Doctor thought she would drive away, but then he saw she was only getting one of her bags out of the vehicle. She got out with the bag and a bottle of water. "I have to take my medication . . ."

The Doctor yanked the bag out of her hands and started rummaging through it. "What kind of medication are we talking about?"

Adora didn't say anything as the Doctor read off prescription labels and flung each bottle to the ground. "Lipitigril, Losartan, Lithium, Buspar, Abilify . . . poison, the whole lot. No wonder you look so awful . . ."

Adora knelt to pick up the bottles, but the Doctor pulled her back up. "_Poison_, Adora, every single one. I absolutely refuse to let you take them any more unless you go into withdrawal. From this moment forward consider me to be your physician. I will look after you and get you healthy enough to make rational decisions. Now, when did you last sleep?"

"Don't remember."

"What about food? I know you didn't eat last night . . ."

"I have no idea," Adora whispered.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. He had strongly suspected Adora was suffering from anorexia while they were married, but hadn't really pushed the issue. Belatedly he realized he should have stepped in, should have been more attentive, but it didn't matter at the moment. Now the priority was to get Adora help as soon as possible. He could do a temporary fix for her body but he was no psychiatrist, and she would definitely need some therapy to get to a better state of mind.

"Where is your TARDIS, Adora?" he asked softly.

She wouldn't look at him.

The Doctor gave up; he didn't have time to search for it. Adora needed swift medical intervention if she was going to survive. "Drive us back," he told her.

"Drive where?"

"Take me back to my TARDIS, Adora. We're getting nowhere here."

She looked at him, then slowly got in the car. The Doctor scooped up the medications he had dropped on the ground. The doctors where they were going might need them, and if Adora went through withdrawal he might need them. He got in.

Adora started up the car, looking defeated. "If we go back . . . if I let you do this . . . will you go away?"

"Not until you're well, Adora. Once that happens, we can talk about the next step."


	4. Chapter 4

4—Push and Pull

The Doctor was surprised at how easy it had been to get Adora in his TARDIS now that she had been changed back into a Time Lady. She glanced around the Console Room, then said rudely, "You let your TARDIS do its own decorating, don't you? You never did have proper control over this vehicle . . ."

The center pillar's glow of green darkened noticeably and the Doctor smiled. "Insult her at your peril, Adora. She's not some mere conveyance to get from point A to point B—she's her own person. If you're mean to her you might find your bed instantly moved to the swimming pool late one night."

Adora sniffed loudly, but did stroke the edge of the console nearest her as she passed. She followed the Doctor listlessly to the Medical Center and lay down flat on the scanning table without prompting. "Will it take long?"

The Doctor was setting the machine to Gallifreyan norms. "Probably about five minutes. Not enough time for a nap, though you can meditate if you think you can't lie still long enough."

"I haven't meditated since I left Gallifrey," Adora confessed. "Not sure I'd remember how."

The Doctor patted her hand. "Meditation is like concentration. You get better and better the more you do, but you can't ever quite lose it all. Ready?"

Adora bit her lip, then nodded.

The Doctor started the scan then began searching through the Med Center supplies, looking for his emergency pack. The kit had some ultra-nutrient powdered shake mixes; high-calorie, vitamin and mineral-rich and easy to digest. He had used them before, after being a prisoner of war on some-planet-or-other and found they worked well. The shakes would provide Adora nourishment without making her stomach work harder than it needed to; the last thing she needed was nausea. He found twelve packs then asked, "What flavors do you like? I have something to give you in place of solid food but I don't want it to taste nasty for you. I have some Gallifreyan flavors too, so what will you take?"

Adora didn't answer. The Doctor went over to the table to see if she was all right. Adora's eyes were squeezed shut, but tears still welled up. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and she was trembling slightly. The Doctor checked to make sure the scan was done, then placed a hand on top of Adora's head and stroked her hair until she stopped shaking. She opened her eyes, then wiped them with the back of one hand. "I never cared what I ate on Gallifrey, not even as a little girl. It doesn't matter what they taste like."

"What about on Earth, Adora? Were there any foods you liked then?"

She answered slowly, "Oranges were nice . . . and eggs, coffee . . . and licorice."

The Doctor smiled at her. "I can manage one of those, I think. I'll go get this mixed up . . . do you want it cold or warm?

"Cold, please."

Once the Doctor was gone Adora sat up and looked around. It looked very much like the med center of her own TARDIS. There was the scanning table she was on, and another more comfortable bed to her left, with controls above it. To her far right were cabinets and drawers of various medical instruments, and beyond that was a small isolation chamber. Behind her was a closed door. She got up and walked to the door and opened it, then smiled when she found a toilet, sink and bath. She hadn't felt the need for a bathroom before now, but now that she had one . . .

When she came out she saw the Doctor looking around in some alarm, a tumbler in his hand. "Adora? Where did you . . . oh, there you are. I didn't think you would have gone far. Ready for a meal?"

Adora went back to the scanning table and sat down, then took the proffered cup. She went to take a sip but stopped when she saw the Doctor looking at her expectantly, eagerly. It bothered her intensely. Did he expect her to just take his orders and try to please him in every way like an Earth pet might? She set the cup down on the table. "I'm not hungry any more," she said stiffly.

The Doctor went from eager to confused in an instant. Why was Adora refusing now? She had been listening, she was giving in . . .

Immediately he stopped, remembering who he was dealing with. His wife had a lot of pride and put high value on dignity. It had to be very hard for her to accept help, especially _his_ help. Giving in just wasn't her. He gathered up all the compassion he had and put it in his voice as he said softly, "I'll just go set the coordinates for Yamexibon, then. Back in a few."

Once Adora was sure he was gone, she sipped, then drained the cup and put it back on the table. It had actually tasted good to her and she was glad she had told him she liked oranges, though she would never admit it. She wasn't going to lose any more of herself than she had to, she decided. Things were hard enough being here, with _him_. How he must enjoy having their roles reversed, she thought, him having all the power and getting to lord over her! After all, it's what _she_ would do, would feel . . .

When the Doctor came back into the room he didn't even look at the cup. He told her gently, "We'll be at Yamexibon soon. They're used to all sorts of fashions and lifeforms so you can wear whatever you want. The Wardrobe Room is left out of here, then down the hall, third door on the right. And I told the TARDIS to put a bedroom and bath next door so you can shower and rest if we have enough time. And Adora, I want you to feel . . . I don't want to hurt you. Please let me know what you need, so I won't."

She looked at him, then gave him a curt nod and left the room.

The Doctor sighed, then started analyzing the scan results. He was not surprised to learn that Adora was severely malnourished and had had some damage done to her hearts, probably from the drugs she had been taking. She should weigh between 135 and 145 pounds to be healthy, and she weighed only 93. She was deficient in several minerals that weren't even found on Earth; he'd have to give her an injectable supplement for now. She had muscle wasting due to not eating, but she was still able to walk on her own, so it could be worse. He'd make sure to put more protein in the next drink, that was if she had actually drank the first one. The cup was empty and he looked in the bath, toilet and sink to make sure she hadn't just dumped it. There was no residue and he felt a little better. At last he was getting somewhere.

Meanwhile, Adora had found the Wardrobe Room and was absolutely astounded. There was enough clothing to outfit every Time Lord in the Citadel more than three times, for all the seasons you could imagine. What a collection! She didn't even know where to start. At last she decided on a pair of thin black leggings and a turquoise t-shirt. The shirt was huge on her, but she wouldn't get too hot. She put on a pair of glittering silver sandals, and thought about jewelry. In the end she decided against it; she wasn't trying to impress anyone here. All she wanted was to get in and out with the least amount of fuss possible.

The room the Doctor had picked out was beautiful. It was done in Earth ocean colors, from the faintest of greens to the deepest of blues and every shade in between. There were also highlights of white like foam, and the lighting was similar to Earth on a bright sunny day. The bed was roomy, and the furniture was sturdy wood the color of sand. The room even smelled of salt and sunshine. She would have to thank the Doctor, but then realized he probably wasn't the architect of this lovely place. Swallowing her pride, she went over to a wall, put her hand on it and said aloud, "Thank you for this. I'm sorry for my manners earlier. Please . . . please forgive me."

She could hear the hum of the TARDIS change slightly in pitch, and could almost feel the ship smiling, if such a thing were possible. She realized that though her TARDIS was little more than an elaborate chariot, this one had personality, life . . . sentience. She wondered how much of that was due to the Doctor and how much of it could be found in any TARDIS that was pampered as much as this one. She didn't know, and now was not the time. She showered quickly, washing thoroughly with soap that could have been straight from the Gallifreyan supply center. What other marvels were here in this place? It was like something out of an Earthen fairy tale.

At last she got out and dressed in her new clothes. She braided her hair in an elaborate twist straight from her childhood, then came out and went back to the Console Room. The Doctor was there, a data chip in hand, probably her scan results. She felt uncomfortable but reminded herself that this was all temporary. She'd pass muster and then go back to Earth and be free of this embarrassing reminder of all her foibles and flaws. She was going to step out meekly but forced herself to stand tall. She was a Time Lady, and had pride enough to do at least that much. Regally she marched to the door and waited as he opened it for her.


	5. Chapter 5

5—Meltdown

When Adora stepped out of the TARDIS her first feeling was one of cold. There was a brisk wind blowing and though the twin suns were shining brightly, she shivered as they walked. "I thought Yamexibon would be warm," she almost whined, then shut her mouth tightly. _He must be loving this_, she thought.

The Doctor looked at her with surprise. "You're cold?" he asked anxiously. "You should be able to sufficiently adjust your metabolism to—but, of course you can't; your metabolism is all but shut down. We can go back for a coat or—"

Adora gritted her teeth. "Forget it. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave."

The Doctor looked like he was going to say something else but she could see him think better of it. He led the way through the mainly deserted streets to the hospital, a beautiful construction of many interlocking spheres surrounding a central column. Her Earthly husband would have loved to have seen it, but she pushed him out of her mind. She had to call on all her reserves of strength to get through this ordeal. She might be under the Doctor's thumb for now, but it would only be for a short time.

They entered the building and went to the receptionist, a red, pumpkin-like being with thick tendril vines instead of arms. It looked at the two of them, then turned pink and stammered, "You . . . you need the Emergency Bubble; it's the left hallway to the elevators, up one level and to your right; just follow the signs. I'll let them know you're coming . . ."

Adora said nothing. Something about the creature's manner upset her. Why was it so sure she needed emergency care? As she went down the halls her unease deepened. Every creature they passed stared at her, _every_ one. Some gasped, some turned different colors, some twitched nervously, but all of them stared. One caterpillar being actually turned and darted away. _What's wrong with everyone_, she wondered.

They approached another receptionist, who also stared. Its tail curled and uncurled in a frenzied manner as it called out to someone, "It's arrived. Someone get a doctor down here _right now_! And you, sir-or-madam, are you a relative?"

The Doctor said firmly, "I am this woman's physician and husband. We are Time Lords from Gallifrey. I have a data chip with a recent scan on it . . ."

The receptionist told them, "You can go in for now but once we start treatment you may be asked to leave. Follow the auto-nurse to the exam room; a sentient will be with you very shortly."

"Thank you," the Doctor told it. He took Adora's hand and guided her through the halls. Again, Adora had to deal with the stares and shocked, horrified faces. She pulled away from the Doctor's grasp. "I can walk perfectly well on my own!" she hissed.

The Doctor looked at her with a gentle smile on his face, which angered her further. He was _enjoying_ this, she was sure of it. What better way to humiliate her than to parade her in front of a bunch of aliens who looked at her like she had four heads, all of them spurting blood and black bile. What she wouldn't have given to have lived a quiet life on Earth as a human and just died there. But no, the high-and-mighty Doctor wasn't about to let her be at peace. She seethed, but made sure to do it quietly.

Once they were in the exam room, the auto-nurse handed Adora a paper gown and told her, "Please re-dress in this so the doctors can better examine you. A sentient will be here shortly."

She looked from the auto-nurse to the Doctor and back to the auto-nurse. They expected her to change in _here_? There was a glass window; anyone could see! Were they crazy?

She was about to flat-out refuse when a matronly humanoid with bulging green eyes and four arms came bustling into the room, replacing the auto-nurse. "All right, dearie, we've got to get you properly dressed for the doctors. What's your name, dearie?" she asked as she slipped Adora's t-shirt over her head and started pulling.

"I can do it myself!" Adora snapped.

The nurse stopped pulling but stood there, her body language saying, _well, get at it!_

The Doctor stepped in. "Her name is Adora, and she's a Time Lady from Gallifrey. I am her husband and physician. I have a data chip with a scan on it from earlier today."

Adora slowly got out of her shirt and leggings but kept her panties while the nurse asked, "And how long has she been like this, sir?"

"She's been in this condition for several months at least. I just found her yesterday."

The nurse said crisply, "Not that we don't trust you, sir, but we'll need to do our own scans . . . we have up-to-date, powerful scanners, ones you won't find everywhere. Now dearie, it's all going to have to go, panties too. We don't want anything interfering with the scans, you know; they're _very_ sensitive . . ."

Utterly humiliated, Adora lowered her underwear and stepped out of them. With trembling hands she got into the paper gown and sat on the scanning table. She wanted to scream, to rage, but most of all to _leave_. She lay back and recited pi as far as she could remember, eyes tightly shut, while the oblivious Doctor and matronly nurse discussed her as if she was a child. He was telling the woman, "I'll need full access to any findings and test results, and I'll want daily reports on how she's doing, hourly perhaps . . ."

The nurse nodded. "Of course, sir. As a physician you'll be granted full disclosure; I'm sure it can be arranged . . . Now you're going to have to be very still for a bit, dearie, so just take deep breaths and concentrate on not moving," she chattered. "It won't take long, and it won't hurt."

Adora had run out of pi numbers; she started reminding herself of the titles of the books she had most recently read in reverse alphabetical order. She wasn't halfway through before the nurse told her, "All set, dearie. You did very well. Now, let's look at the results . . . well, you are in a state. Not even menstruating at this point, though that'll come back once you've got more weight on you . . ."

The Doctor's voice climbed up an octave as he gasped, "Menstruating? Female Gallifreyans can't menstruate; there was—"

"She's too thin now, but once she's gained some weight it won't be an issue," the nurse insisted.

Adora had had enough. "Get out," she spat.

"Now, dearie—"

Adora bellowed as loud as she possibly could. "Get _out_! All of you! Just _leave_!"

The Doctor came to her side and said in a measured tone, "I think we need a minute alone. Would it be possible . . ."

"We really can't do that sir, she shouldn't be left alone until she's examined, and even then—"

"I'll be with her and I'm a doctor myself," the Doctor said firmly. "She just needs a minute or two, don't you, Adora?"

Adora did not answer. It was all she could do to hold back tears but she would not, _would_ _not_ give him the satisfaction.

"I'll be right outside," the nurse told them. "A psychiatrist on staff will be here any minute, and then he can go over the scans . . ."

The Doctor nodded absently as he sat next to Adora on the table. "We'll be fine on our own for now. Thank you."

The nurse left, and Adora released a huge breath. "I want to leave; I want to go back to Earth. Take my TARDIS, take whatever you want, but take me _back_."

"No, Adora," the Doctor said quietly. "You need help."

"I _don't_ need to be treated like I'm not even here! I _don't_ need people discussing my intimate details! I _don't_ need people staring at me like I'm a mauled corico-beast! I need to leave! They _hate_ me! All of them _hate_ me! I won't stay!"

"They don't mean any harm, Adora, and they certainly don't hate you. Anorexia is rare here, though they can treat it. They're just concerned, like I am."

"No one's concerned, least of all you. You just want to get back at me, to pay me for how I treated you. If you _cared_, you would have asked if you could have access to my private medical information instead of blurting it out for all to hear. If you _cared_ you would have made sure I could change in private, rather than make me expose myself in front of the whole hospital. If you _cared_ you would at least give me a sheet to cover up with; I'm so cold . . ."

The Doctor turned scarlet. "I'm sorry, Adora . . . I have been going about this in the wrong way. I'm not trying to embarrass or hurt you. I've been insensitive to your needs and I will stop. I apologize."

He stood up and started opening cabinets until he found a blanket. He draped it over her shoulders, then murmured, "I will do my best to get you the help you need while keeping your dignity intact. I am truly sorry, Adora."

"Take me back to Earth."

The Doctor took her hand and started stroking it. "When you're well."

Just then a blue-skinned male humanoid came in. "My name is Doctor Brikk, and I'm going to be taking care of you, Adora, is it? The first thing you need is a good, long sleep; even Time Lords and Ladies have to rest sometime."

The humanoid approached her with a hypospray cartridge in hand. Before he could administer the drug, everything went hazy. She felt herself yelling, running, pushing people out of her path. She kept going until she found what she thought was a safe place to hide, a metal box with a sliding door in front. It was small, but she could get in by crawling. She thought she was safe, but screamed as she felt the box she was in begin to drop. She tried to get out, but the place where she had gotten in was already far above her and there wasn't enough space. She kept screaming as the box lowered, then lurched as it stopped at another clear area. She frantically raised the door and crawled out, sobbing.

She stayed there crying and rocking until she felt someone putting their arms around her, then wrapping her in a blanket. She heard the Doctor's voice then, whispering to her in Gallifreyan, telling her she would be all right, that no one would harm her. He then said something to the others crowded around them as he raised Adora in his arms and carried her somewhere. She just closed her eyes and tried to stop weeping.

She opened her eyes when she felt her body being lowered onto something soft. She was in a different room, somewhere with muted pinks and lavenders on the walls and gentle music playing from nearby. The Doctor's face was inches from her own, great concern showing in his deep brown eyes. She managed to stop crying and saw that they were alone in the room, though she thought she could see people just outside the door.

Gently the Doctor asked her, "What are you afraid of, Adora? Do you think we'll hurt you while you sleep?"

Adora shook her head. "No, not that. Nothing like that."

"Then what? I need to know, Adora. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. Please tell me. _Please_, Adora."

Adora shivered, shaking her head. "You'll laugh."

The Doctor looked horrified. "I would never laugh at something that upsets you so."

"I'm . . . I'm scared of the monsters," she confessed.

"What monsters?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"Every time I close my eyes I can see them, hear them, and they won't go away. They're just out of reach, and I . . . I can't sleep."

The Doctor stroked her head and told her seriously, "That's because you _haven't_ slept, Adora. It's a vicious cycle and it's just going to get worse and worse until you die. You should have told me, you know . . ."

Adora started crying again. "I can't do it! I'm so scared . . ."

"What if I stayed? Would you sleep if I was there with you?"

"I don't know," Adora sniffed.

The Doctor bent down and held Adora close. "I'll stay right there the whole time. I won't go anywhere. We'll find a quiet place where you can rest for as long as you need. You stay here for a bit while I arrange things."

Adora watched the Doctor have a quiet conversation with the people at the door. He came back, scooped her up again and followed a nurse to a private room, dark and warm. He set her down and tucked her in under a sheet, then sat next to her on the double bed. "It's all right, Adora. This is a safe place, a seldaseltra, all for you."

Adora sighed, relieved. "Seldaseltra" meant a place where one could find emotional, mental, and physical balance and safety. It was not used lightly; for a place to be such it usually required guards at the door and calming odors and quiet, dark surroundings. Though she trusted what the Doctor was saying, she still couldn't relax. "I just can't," she whimpered.

The Doctor didn't scold; he took her in his arms and started whispering more Gallifreyan to her, telling her how strong she was, how brave. After a few minutes, she finally sank into slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

6—The Unexpected

The Doctor fell asleep about ten minutes after Adora did but woke much sooner, of course. When he opened his eyes he checked his internal time sense and found he had slept about two hours, which would last him a week. He knew Adora might sleep as much as twelve hours before she woke, which was fine with him; the more rest she got the better.

Disentangling himself took a minute or two, but he managed to do it without waking Adora. Quickly he grabbed a chair so he could sit by her bedside. He turned on a dim light, ready to turn it off the second she stirred, but she didn't move. _Good_, he thought. He took a data reader and a copy of Adora's hospital scan results, then sat down and started to go over them in detail.

Some of the information was stuff he had discovered from his own scan: malnutrition, sleep deprivation, hearts damage. He also knew about the mineral deficiency and possible withdrawal symptoms she might experience. Her metabolism was a mess, her body barely functioned—all things he knew.

The fact that she had stopped menstruating was a total surprise.

Gallifreyan women were sterile, had been for millennium. Some time well in Gallifrey's past a virus had attacked the reproductive system and gene sequence of all the females on the planet, and had caused the mutation to be passed on through the X chromosome of the women's DNA. Gene-splicing hadn't worked, a retrovirus hadn't worked . . . the only answer had been cloning, thus the Looms were created. Adora shouldn't have been able to menstruate in the first place, let alone have the cycle interrupted. He hadn't realized that the process stopped in cases of anorexia, but it made sense; if the body was just hanging on, the reproductive system would shut down along with all other non-essentials. This meant that once well, Adora might be able to bear a child.

The Doctor thought long and hard about this new development. One question he had was how had it happened? What had been done to Adora's body that reversed cellular and genetic codes that had locked Gallifreyan doctors and geneticists out for many thousands of years? Was it the medications, the long time she had spent in a human body, maybe the anorexia itself, what?

His next question was, should he tell her? Adora was barely clinging to life as it was; would it be fair to complicate her recovery by telling her now? At the same time, was it fair to withhold medical information she had the right to know? Which would cause the most harm, the least? And how to broach the subject? "By the way, you might be able to become pregnant and have a child," didn't sound like the type of comment you made at the breakfast table, or anywhere, for that matter. It would have to be done delicately, and maybe not by him. Adora already thought he was punishing her with his demands and decisions. It might not be wise for him to open up this Pandora's Box. She would have to know eventually, maybe even soon, but for now he decided to wait. Hopefully she would be able to bond with one of the staff here and save him the awkwardness.

_Adora might be able to bear children, _he thought to himself. _Our children._

The Doctor's mind whirled with a hundred different fantasies. He saw himself holding a Gallifreyan toddler, singing it songs in his native tongue. He saw himself on Histameglu flying a kite with a little girl while Adora and a little boy picked flowers and examined butterflies that landed on their sleeves. He saw himself in a classroom with a group of teenagers studying advanced temporal physics. He saw himself, old and feeble, being helped down a path by a youngster as they surveyed baby TARDIS-es being planted in a nursery. He saw and saw and saw . . .

A hand on his shoulder broke him out of his dreams. He looked up to find the doctor who would be treating Adora, Doctor Brikk, standing next to his chair. "Is she still asleep?" Doctor Brikk whispered.

"So far. And this is going to have to be the last conversation we have without Adora being awake, lucid, and involved. She has control issues which manifest as anorexia. For her to get better she needs to feel her life is in _her_ hands, not someone else's, and especially not mine. Once those so-called 'medications' are out of her system—"

"That's one thing I wanted to ask about. Those drugs . . . do you think it was part of a suicide attempt?"

The Doctor thought long and hard for a minute, then shrugged. "I have no idea, actually. She was in human form when they were prescribed but that doesn't mean she didn't know what they were doing to her. It might have been a passive way to die. She's already told me she has nothing to live for, so there is a possibility the damage was deliberate. I wish I could give you a definitive yes or no . . ."

"There's very few 'definitives' in psychiatry, Doctor. I just wondered how high a suicide safeguard level we would have to use. We can go full-out and have the furniture unmovable, no fixtures in the bathroom, no sheets . . ."

The Doctor shook his head. "Too much external control. We'll lose her if we go that route. She has to be involved as much as we can let her. And though I'm a doctor, I'm likely to be a big trigger for her, so I'd like to keep as much out of her treatment as I can. I want her to feel that I'm a support, but not a driving force behind her recovery."

Doctor Brikk sighed. "We will need your help at first to stabilize her physically. You said some of the minerals and vitamins she needed weren't accessible on Earth . . ."

"You probably have them here, but I'll check to make sure. One thing I'm sure of is that they can be found in places other than Gallifrey. Usually a Time Lord would be exposed to them either on the home world or on the planets they visited."

Doctor Brikk glanced at the scan results, then asked, "Are you sure the anorexia is just a control issue? Could there be a body-image disorder as well?"

The Doctor sighed. "It's unlikely. Adora was always proud of how healthy she looked. Also, if it were just body-image it would have disappeared after a regeneration and a new body; this has been a problem for her all the time I've known her. It just was never this bad before. Again, it might be a way to slowly die, but that's not _all_ it is."

"One thing we will have to control for at least the short-term is her eating," Doctor Brikk said firmly. "We need to get her healthy enough to be out of danger. I want her up to 105 pounds before we really address the damage to her psyche. We can give her as much choice of her wardrobe, rooms, pleasure activities, and other non-essentials as she wants but she has to start gaining, and soon. I don't want tube-feeding or intravenous intrusions if we don't need them."

"I agree," The Doctor said. "But as I said, I'm going to step back once she's awake."

Doctor Brikk nodded. "I understand. Just let us know when she wakes and I'll discuss with her whether she wants to be in the Psych Bubble or somewhere else."

"I'll let you know," the Doctor promised.

Doctor Brikk left the room. As the door was closing Adora stirred a bit, moaning. The Doctor sighed, sat down on the bed and gently stroked Adora's hair until she calmed down. _You will get better_, he thought. _ Better enough to want children, even. You will get better_ . . .


	7. Chapter 7

7—The Man in the Mirror

When Adora woke after ten hours, the Doctor said, "Well then, I'll be on my way."

Adora was astonished. "You're leaving me here?"

"Oh, I won't leave the city. I'm just going to . . . well . . . give you some space."

Adora studied his face carefully. "What do you mean, _space_?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I think you'll heal quicker if I'm not always on the scene. Not that you can't have me come visit if you want; I'd always be available . . ."

"Aren't you going to be my doctor?" _Poking your nose into everything?_ she thought.

"Actually, no, not unless I'm needed to clarify your needs as a Gallifreyan."

Suddenly Adora felt nervous. She had resigned herself to the fact that the Doctor would be micro-managing her case so he could keep her under his thumb, but this . . . this was unexpected. "Where will you go?" she asked suspiciously, but with a bit of unease.

"Like I said, I won't leave the city. I'll probably see what parts I can find for my TARDIS, maybe do a complete overhaul, but I won't leave without you. That's a promise, Adora. I can visit; I'll set up something so you can get in touch with me." He patted her hand, then withdrew quietly.

After a few minutes, Doctor Brikk entered the room and said, "Adora, I'd like you to come with me so you can meet your treatment team and make some decisions on how you want your stay here to go. Unless you want to shower?"

Adora thought, then said, "I'd rather hear what you're going to do with me first."

"A lot of that is going to depend on you, what you think will help most. There's a few non-negotiables, but we want you to have control over your care. You know you best, after all."

They walked down to a conference room with a view of the city and the other treatment spheres of the hospital. She was surprised by the size of her treatment team; there was Doctor Brikk, her psychiatrist; another doctor for her physical ailments, two nurses, a social worker, a massage therapist, an activity aide, a nutritionist and a therapist. She was a little intimidated, but tried not to show it too much. After introductions were made, Doctor Brikk told her, "Now, we need you to decide what part of the hospital you want to live in while you're here. Some parts will be restricted, of course . . ."

Adora was taken aback. "I can choose?"

The therapist, a silicon-based creature that looked like a column of crystal, answered through an electronic translator. "We want you somewhere you'll be comfortable and able to focus on getting well. The obvious choice is the Psych Bubble . . ."

"No," Adora said firmly. "I'm not crazy."

"Just a regular private room in one of the other med Bubbles?" the octopus social worker suggested.

Adora shook her head. She wanted to be somewhere with people like her, people that didn't matter, ones who wouldn't want to chatter at her or stare . . . "I want to go to the Hospice Bubble. I want to go to a place where everyone knows it's over, just like it is for me."

Several of the team members looked at her with concern, but Doctor Brikk told her, "That's fine, Adora. We'll set up a room for you there. Now we have to talk to you about some things you _won't_ be able to choose. You need to take in a certain, set amount of nutrition several times a day. For now this will be in liquid form, but after a bit we can start you on some solids. You and the nutritionist can talk about flavors you would prefer, but you must take in the sustenance as directed. You will also be weighed on a daily basis, but at first we don't want you knowing what that weight is. We don't want you focused on a number; we want you focused on how your body feels. One other thing—before you go to your room we have to perform a special test, one that can't be done by a scan or equipment. We'll do that right after this meeting, actually. It won't take long, but it's _very_ important. You'll need to have a staff there when the test is administered, but you don't need to talk to them or interact with them if you don't want to. Do you understand?"

Adora nodded, but wondered about the "special" test. What could they possibly check for without scanners or equipment? Was it a special scale, a blood test, what?

"Who would you like to accompany you to the test, Adora?" Doctor Brikk asked.

"I think . . . I think one of the nurses."

The female humanoid nurse said, "I'll be happy to assist you, Adora. First, though, there are some preparations."

Adora was so very curious. "What preparations?"

"This test can't be properly done in a gown or regular clothes. You can be nude or wear well-fitting underclothes, your choice. You also have to put your hair up."

"Can . . . can I wear panties?"

The nurse nodded. "We'll find you some. Let's get you to the testing room . . . it's in the Psych Bubble, but we don't have to stay there long."

Adora followed the nurse to the Psych Bubble, then came to a black door near the middle of the Bubble. She and the nurse entered, and the nurse handed her some underwear. Once she was in the panties and her hair was braided up and piled on her head the nurse told Adora, "I want you to open the door to your right, and then step forward. Take as much time as you need."

Adora squared her shoulders and stepped into the next room.

What she saw there was a complete surprise. The room was small, but well-lit so she could see clearly. In front of her was a set of three full-length mirrors set in angles so Adora could see herself from both sides, the front, and the back. She shivered, then began to shake as she examined herself. Her arms were sticks, her ribs could easily be seen . . . in fact, her whole body was nothing more than a skeleton hiding in skin and thin, weak muscles. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes sunken; she was little more than a shell of who she had been. She only lasted a moment or two before she crumpled into a heap in front of the mirrors, sobbing. Had she really come to this? Is that all that was left of her? She'd always been strong, prided herself on the fact. Now she was barely more than a corpse. No wonder they had all stared . . .

The nurse came and helped Adora to her feet, saying, "Do you understand why you're here now, Adora?"

Adora took one more glance in the mirrors, then said in a small voice, "I think . . . maybe I should stay in the Psych Bubble after all."

The nurse nodded and led Adora from the room.


	8. Chapter 8

8—The Waiting Game

The Doctor sighed and put down the tiny mylogen torch he had been using, taking off the protective gloves and setting them aside. Once he put the tool away he stood and stretched, then headed to the kitchen for a meal. He opened a container of stew he had gotten from a trader the day before and sat down while it heated in the hyper-wave. Once it was ready he grabbed a fork, reached over to the fruit bowl to snag a banana, then sat again to eat. As he ate he couldn't help but think of Adora. Had they been able to reverse any of the damage she had done to herself? Was she cooperating with the medical team, or was she resisting? He wanted to know, almost _needed_ to know, but he stopped himself. It had only been two days, she was in good hands and he had to wait until she reached out, had to wait until he was given permission to involve himself. He had said he would give her space and he meant to keep that promise not only for her, but for himself. Even if he was at her side constantly she still needed to take this journey on her own, had to make it be her choice and not something forced upon her.

_She'll ask for me_, he told himself. _Sooner or later, she'll want me to come. She'll be stubborn and prideful at first, but she'll call. She'll call . . ._

_ Won't she?_

Adora sighed, putting aside the book she was reading. It was afternoon on Yamexibon and she was taking one of her allotted "quiet times" to be by herself. Usually there were classes to attend, projects to work on, treatments given . . . but now was quiet time, time to just get away and be by herself. She knew she got more autonomy than anyone else. She got to choose which groups she would attend, which staff she wanted with her, how she spent time when the others were sleeping. Still, there was a lot of structure. She wished she had more "down time", but knew she would be brooding if she wasn't busy, usually about the Doctor. Always about the Doctor.

_He'll come,_ she told herself. _He won't be able to stay away. That's not who he is, how he's made. He may try to control himself, try to hold out, but he won't last. He'll be by tomorrow, maybe the next day . . . but he'll come._

_ Won't he?_

Someone had to break first.


	9. Chapter 9

9—Food For Thought

"I'm glad you asked me to visit," the Doctor said as he sat down on a bench next to Adora. "I like this particular room; do you come here often?"

They were in a little tropical oasis that had been set up inside the Psych Bubble so the patients didn't feel so shut-in. There was the sound of running water and plants everywhere and even smells that might make you think you were actually outside. Both Adora and the Doctor were unable to believe they weren't in an enclosed space due to their heightened senses, but it was a good enough imitation for the moment.

"I don't, actually," Adora told him, "I just wanted some privacy. The others are in exercise group right now so it's loud and chaotic, even in my room. They run laps, you see, and though I've been here a week I just can't get used to it."

The Doctor nodded. "Do you ever get a chance to swim? You've always loved water . . ."

Adora shook her head. "Not yet; I can't do any vigorous exercise until I weigh a little more, though I'm sure they already told you."

"Actually," the Doctor responded, "they haven't told me and won't tell me; they'll just let me know periodically if you're still alive. I told you I would give you space and I meant it. This is your healing, Adora, not mine. But let's talk about something else."

Adora jumped up and stared angrily at the Doctor. "You drag me off the planet where I've lived for years, dump me in this place, and _now_ decide not to get involved? Are you serious?"

"I don't want to make it any harder for you than—"

"Why did you bring me here if you were just going to ditch me? You're supposed to be the Doctor—the hero who charges in and makes everything better. Why won't you make it better?"

"I can't do that Adora," the Doctor said softly. "You have to make it better yourself. All your life you've been driven by other people to be the person they wanted you to be, and you took control in the only means you had available. Now it's time for you to decide for yourself how you want to live, what you want to do."

"I _wanted_ to die on Earth as a human!" Adora raged. "_You're_ the one who got in the way of that, and now you want to be a coward, change your tune. You brought me here to help, so _help me_! Do what you do best—meddle in things you have no business getting involved in. You've gone this far, why stop now?"

The Doctor looked up at her, sorrow on his face. "I don't want to control you, Adora. You've had enough of that on Gallifrey. Always it was someone dictating to you who you were supposed to be, what you had to do to be noticed or respected, until they made you into their image. You were driven and driven until the only outlet you had was being master over what you put in your mouth. The last thing you need is for me to do the same. I'm here if you want to talk, to cry or rage, to just sit next to you so you're not alone, but I will not be in charge of your life or push you into a mold of who I think you should be. You have to decide on your own who you want to be and what you want to make of yourself. I don't even want to give you advice right now; even that might be too much. I care about you Adora and always have, but I'm not going to run your life for you. I'm here as a sounding board, but the rest is up to you."

"Why are you doing this!?" Adora screeched. "You're supposed to be in charge!"

The Doctor got to his feet. "Actually, I'm not. The person who's supposed to be in charge right now is you. Others are helping you stay alive long enough for that to happen, but once that's been sorted your life will be put squarely in your hands."

He put a hand on her head for a moment then walked out.

For the next two days Adora was in quite a temper. She refused to talk to anyone. She quit attending groups and activities. She ceased bathing, terminated her massage therapy sessions and of course, stopped eating. In fact, she made it a point to pour her nutrition drinks down the garbage receptacle right in front of everyone. No one commented or tried to stop her. She spent almost all her time in her room and would pace for a few minutes before she had to stop and rest, but she would get right back up and pace again.

_How dare he!_ she fumed. _Self righteous, interfering Skul-squid! It's a trick! He'll be right back here sticking his nose into everything when they tell him how I'm doing now. They'll have to tell him. He'll be back . . ._

On the evening of the second day, Adora was resting on her bed when Doctor Brikk stuck his head in. He looked at her for a moment then said, "I have a question for you, Adora: who are you hurting right now? You may be angry with someone, even with all of us, but who's really paying the price? Think about it."

Adora lay down in bed and thought about it.

She had to admit that she was suffering. She missed her massage therapy. She missed the activities she took part in with the other patients. She was _hungry,_ by Rassilon! She was hungry and sad and miserable, and it was the Doctor's fault! He brought her here, he ditched her, he . . .

_But he's not the one who's hungry, is he?_ a little voice whispered._ He's not miserable and sad. He's not pleading with me to follow the program, to bathe, to eat. He's not even here. The only one stopping me from eating and bathing and having fun is . . . is . . . is me._

Adora thought about it all night.


	10. Chapter 10

10—Spoken and Unspoken

It was two months before the Doctor saw Adora again. He got his weekly call that she was still alive just as he had set up with Doctor Brikk and though it almost killed him, the Doctor left it at that. He wanted to know everything, _anything_ on how Adora was doing but it wasn't his place, not now. Not yet. She had to be ready, had to be coming into herself, and his last visit had convinced him she was neither of those things. The Doctor hadn't meant to upset her, but he didn't think he could have handled it any other way than how he had. He wouldn't, couldn't force her to get well, and she had to understand that clearly. No one had that power except Adora herself.

During those weeks he set himself the task of giving his TRADIS a complete overhaul, not realizing how difficult the work would be. Some systems were on the brink of failure; others didn't work at all. The project was more difficult seeing as there weren't proper TARDIS parts to buy; they simply didn't exist any more. The Doctor patched and made do with the parts he could modify but mostly he had to improvise and build what was needed himself. It was hard, painstaking work but there was no one else and it had to get done; the poor TARDIS hadn't gotten an overhaul in well over a hundred years and she deserved better. He apologized to her in Gallifreyan for neglecting her but she hummed brightly in response to his words and repairs, seeming to forgive him.

Just as he finished up tuning the starboard long-range sensor array one morning, he heard the beep sequence of the cellular phone he had set up so the hospital could reach him. He scrambled to his feet and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"This is the Psych Bubble at Nafujan Hospital; I'm trying to reach . . . the Doctor?"

"I'm the Doctor. Has something happened?"

The being on the other end told him, "There is no emergency; Adora's asked if you could come and visit. Would you be available today?"

The Doctor was pleased, no, jubilant. Adora had finally asked for him again. "I'd be glad to. Are there set visiting hours?"

"Not for Adora. We try to let her set her own visitation schedule so long as it isn't too disruptive for others or for her treatment."

"I'll be there in an hour. Can I bring her something?"

"No animal or plant life-forms of any kind are allowed; some of the patients and staff might be allergic. She also cannot receive any gifts of food or beverages at this time; it might interfere with her treatment," the being responded.

"Thank you. I'll be there shortly."

The Doctor put down the phone, then thought at a furious rate. What gift could he bring Adora? Would she like jewelry or a book, maybe music, what? He hadn't given her many gifts when they were together; she just gave them back haughtily, saying he was being ridiculous and he eventually stopped. Would she be as unreceptive now? He decided that he didn't care how she reacted; it would make _him_ feel better. He hurried to the TARDIS library and spent some time looking for a book he thought Adora would enjoy. In the end he selected a slim volume of poetry from seventy-seventh century Venusian poet Fijfanarm. He then grabbed his coat, straightened his tie and set off.

When he arrived at the Psych Bubble the auto-nurse at the entrance stopped him. It said, "Welcome to the Psych Bubble. Are you here to visit a specific patient?"

"I'm the Doctor, and I'm here to see Adora."

"Please empty your pockets of any weapons or dangerous items you may carry. This includes any sharps, chemicals, flammables, et cetera . . ."

The Doctor thought for a moment then sighed and took off his coat, not wanting to search through his pockets for anything they might consider inappropriate; that could take days. He handed it to the auto-nurse after taking out his sonic screwdriver and putting it in his suit pocket.

The auto-nurse asked, "What is that device?" It managed to sound suspicious.

"It's a sonic screwdriver; perfectly harmless."

"Does it have the capacity to interfere with the door locks, the medication locks, or myself?"

The Doctor hesitated. "Well, possibly, but . . . I promise I'll keep it right with me at—"

The auto-nurse extended a metal appendage. "It will be put with the rest of your effects; it will not be damaged or tampered with. You may _not_ bring it in; there is too great a risk to the patients."

The Doctor scowled, but gave the auto-nurse the screwdriver. He watched it put the screwdriver in one of the pockets of his coat and hang the coat in a locker by the door. It opened the door for him, then went to the second door and poked an appendage into a small opening. The second door opened and the Doctor stepped in as the auto-nurse retreated.

There was a humanoid male behind the nurse's station at the second door, one the Doctor had seen on his last visit. "Adora is in a massage therapy session right now, but she'll be out shortly. Are you able to wait ten minutes or so?"

"Of course," the Doctor told him. "I don't mind at all; her treatment has to come first."

The male nodded. "Come right this way, sir."

The Doctor was led to a small, three walled room with a water-flow artwork piece on one wall and pastel kaleidoscope patterns on the other two which rippled and changed in time with the flow of water from the sculpture. He didn't like it himself, but could understand why some life-forms would like the space. He flipped through the pages of the book he had brought while he was waiting to pass the time, but stopped when he saw Adora coming. She was dressed in a simple, short turquoise robe and even at a distance she looked more healthy. Her hair was thicker, her eyes less sunken and her cheeks a little rounder. More than that her eyes had a sort of light in them that wasn't there before. He was glad to see the changes in her body, and hoped her psyche had been built up as well.

Adora smiled at him and gestured for him to sit. "It's kind of you to come. I wasn't very nice last time . . ."

"It's all right, Adora," he reassured her. "I brought you something . . ."

Adora blushed as she took the book. "You always used to bring me presents, and I would always refuse. This time, I . . . thank you."

"You are welcome."

Adora looked at their surroundings and whispered, "Do you hate this room as much as I do? It's supposed to be modern and in style, but if this is their style they can keep it."

The Doctor chuckled, then asked in a low tone, "You don't even like the sculpture?"

"I like my water less tame. I love waterfalls and oceans, but this is like having a wolf on a leash. It just isn't right. The hospital has a hydrotherapy pool, but this poor thing is different."

"How often can you go for a swim?" the Doctor wanted to know.

Adora said sadly, "Only two times a week. I'm supposed to try to get my muscles back in shape without overexercising so I don't go as much as I would like. I attend the yoga class they have for everyone, but it isn't the same."

"Isn't yoga good for your flexibility? I don't know much about it . . ."

Adora told the Doctor, "It's for a lot of things, like flexibility and balance and stretching. You should try it."

The Doctor told her, "I actually don't have the time right now. I'm giving my poor TARDIS an overhaul, and there's plenty of work to do."

"How do you find the parts?" Adora wanted to know. "It's not like there's anyone growing TARDIS-es any more."

"I have to adapt other equipment or make my own. I'm not sure there aren't people somewhere that are growing them; not all TARDIS nurseries were on Gallifrey. But even if I could find a baby TARDIS, mine would never allow me to use it for parts and I doubt I could stomach it myself. It's just going to have to be patch and improvise."

Adora said softly, "It's the same for me; it's all patches and quick fixes and bandaging . . . I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be whole again."

The Doctor reached over and took her hand. Adora jumped slightly, but didn't pull away. "Healing takes time, Adora. Once they've stopped the bleeding they can start the mending. You've been ill for a long time, longer than just your time on Earth, so the process of getting well may take a while. The good thing is you've begun. You're doing the patching and bandaging you need to for now so you can dig deeper later."

They sat still for a few minutes without speaking. After a bit Adora cleared her throat and murmured, "Thank you for bringing me here. You didn't have to, and I didn't want you to, but—"

"I _did_ have to," the Doctor replied. "You were in danger and suffering needlessly. I wasn't going to leave you in that state. That's not who I am."

Adora looked deep into his eyes. "What happens after?" she asked.

"After what?"

"Once I'm well, what . . . what happens?"

The Doctor said seriously, "This is not the time for that particular conversation. Once you're better we can discuss what you want to do."

Adora asked, "And how will you know when that is?"

"The doctors will tell me. But more importantly, _you'll_ tell me," the Doctor explained. "I think you'll know when you're well enough to make more long-range plans."

"But what if . . . when is too long? When will you leave?"

The Doctor squeezed Adora's hand gently. "I'm not going to leave without you, Adora; I told you that right at the start. You have as much time as you need to get better. If it takes years, if it takes regenerations, I'll stay."

Adora spoke low. "And when will you be my doctor again?"

"Hopefully never. I'd rather be your . . ."

"Your what?"

The Doctor was about to answer, but just then a nurse stepped in. "I don't mean to intrude, Adora, but it's time for a meal. You know it's a big part of your treatment and your nutritionist is waiting . . ."

The Doctor stood hastily and told Adora in one breath, "It's all right; I don't want to get in the way, I can come again, just ask for me whenever you're ready, no need to worry, I'll come . . ." He squeezed Adora's hand once more and left as quickly as he could.

Adora was left to wonder as the nurse led her to the dining table.


	11. Chapter 11

11—A Day of Firsts

The Doctor woke with a jerk and sat up quickly. He checked his internal time-sense and discovered he had slept longer than he thought—a whole four hours! He groaned loudly; he was going to be late for his visit with Adora. They had set up visitation for mornings on the first day of the week, afternoons the third, and evenings for the sixth. He wondered if he should call and say he would be late, but realized he was already late. No sense taking the time now.

As he jumped in the shower he tried to think why he had slept so long, but couldn't come up with a decent answer. He had been working hard on the TARDIS he knew, and he was feeling better about Adora . . .

Maybe that was it. He was finally feeling better about Adora. He was sure she was out of danger now; she had told him last visit that she was up to 110 pounds and officially on "caution" status, whatever that meant. The hearts damage was still an issue, but the doctor felt it might heal itself in time as long as she continued to eat well. She wouldn't be able to leave until she was on "recovery status", which wouldn't be for a while yet, but she was definitely on her way and that had allowed the Doctor to relax, just a little.

He dressed as quickly as he could and darted out of the TARDIS. He flew to the hospital and turned over his items to the auto-nurse, then stopped at the nurse's station and panted, "Where's Adora?"

The nurse told him, "She's been waiting for you at the Activity Room; everyone's painting. She's been worried . . ."

"I overslept," the Doctor admitted. "First time in my lives. Will I still be able to see her?"

"That will be up to Adora, but I don't think she'll have a problem. Go around the bubble counter-clockwise and you'll see the Activity Room."

The Doctor hurried around the bubble and stopped short when he got to the Activity Room. Adora was there, her back to him as she painted the scene of a beach and a long ocean wave. The lines and angles were elementary and the curves crude, but it was the first creative thing he had ever seen her produce and he was proud of her, stepping so far out of her upbringing and her hard shell. The old Hedron wouldn't dream of doing something she might fail at. This new Adora was willing to risk failure in order to be true to herself, and it was wonderful to see.

Adora sensed a presence behind her and turned, then gave him a full smile as she hurried to him. "I was worried . . . did something happen?"

"I overslept," the Doctor admitted. "I'm not sure what happened; I apologize . . ."

"You've just been working too hard on your TARDIS, that's all. I wouldn't think I'd be telling you to take care of yourself," she said, eyes twinkling.

"Don't let me disturb you, Adora, if you're in the middle of creative genius . . ."

Adora shook her head and led him to a more private space. "I can finish this while everyone's asleep, and I'd rather talk to you anyway. I have news."

The Doctor was surprised. "What news? Your hearts are getting better?"

"I finished my whole breakfast! It's the first meal I've finished since I got here. I kept telling my nutritionist they were giving me too much, but I managed it today."

"That's brilliant!" the Doctor told her.

It seemed so natural what happened next; they were hugging, her head was tipped towards his, he leaned down . . . and they kissed. Their first kiss.

Both froze, lips still together. Neither even breathed for the space of about six seconds. Then Adora gasped, pulled away, and fled. The Doctor didn't call out or try to stop her. He stood still for a few moments, then rushed to the door to leave, his mind still trying to process what had just happened.

He had kissed Adora. And she had accepted it.

They had never been intimate in any sense of the word during their first lives together. Adora thought all physical intimacy was beneath her and was too haughty to respond to his attempts to foster emotional intimacy. She had put up as many walls between them as she could. They never touched, and sometimes didn't speak for days at a time. Usually when they had spoken it was because she felt he was being "embarrassing", and the conversation was entirely her dressing him down on how he was going to wreck her life if he didn't start conforming. That had been one major reason he left Gallifrey on a survey mission to Earth. Going there had convinced him that he had been right about all his perceptions of love and caring and having real connections to those around him. Earth hadn't changed a thing about his world-view; it had only cemented it in place. That, of course had disgusted Adora and she pulled even further away. He had given up on her and pushed all of his love and attention on the children and grandchildren. That too, had been a waste of time and energy but he kept at it until Susan, wonderful Susan, had arrived. Once she was a teenager he saw his chance to really love someone, show someone the care and attention no other Gallifreyan would have accepted, and he took it. Susan never returned to Gallifrey and neither did he until he was forced to. He had tried to love Adora but she had made it impossible, until . . .

He had just kissed his wife for the first time ever after at least a century of trying to love her and she didn't yell or slap him or say it was too primitive an act to mention. She had actually accepted a little bit of love from him for the first time in all the years he had known her. It was astounding, unbelievable, impossible . . . except that it was true.

He wandered back to his TARDIS in a daze, his mind still reeling. Mechanically, he laid out his tools to work on the TARDIS, then left them there and walked away; he didn't dare work on her while he was so distracted. Something bad would happen. He opened the door into the interior of the TARDIS and just started walking, his brain barely connected to his feet. When he next got out of his thoughts enough to register where he was, he found himself outside of Susan's old room. Not sure why he had ended up there, he opened the door and looked in . . .

. . . and found a portrait of Adora in her first life, before any regenerations. It was in a line of other family portraits Susan had insisted on bringing with them when they left. The Doctor looked at the other paintings of his children and grandchildren, then settled his eyes on the picture of Adora. No, not Adora—this was Maraltha-Hedronisicalimar, the regal Time Lady, the woman who sneered at concepts like love and compassion and connection. To this woman nothing mattered but position and power and ambition. The disdain and haughtiness of this individual almost seeped out of the painting into the air. This was his wife, his nemesis, his chain locking him into the standards of decorum and pride of Gallifrey. He couldn't stand it then, and even less now.

Sudden fury overtook the Doctor. He yanked the portrait off the wall and threw it to the floor, smashing the glass. He reached in and tore the picture in two halves, then tore it again and again until there were only shreds left. He stopped, panting, all the rage gone. Maraltha-Hedronisicalimar was gone now, forever, and instead he had someone new in her place, someone who loved the ocean and oranges and was painting for herself. There was Adora now, and everything was different, and he loved her. He may have been opening himself up for more pain and disillusionment, but he didn't care. He loved Adora.

He just didn't know what he was going to do about it.

Adora didn't stop running until she reached her room, sliding the door shut behind her. She turned her head this way and that, searching for a place to escape but not really sure why. She almost hid under the bed, but settled for crouching down behind the foot of it, on the floor. She panted in huge gasps, and tried to make sense of what had happened.

The Doctor had kissed her. He hadn't planned on it, she was sure, and it was accidental, but it had happened. He had kissed her.

And she had liked it.

She had had some physical contact before. Her Earthly husband James had been a little surprised to find that she knew nothing about kissing or touching, but he had been a patient teacher and she had gotten used to it, though she never really enjoyed it. They had never gone further than undressing each other; James hadn't been interested in going beyond that point.

But this, this had been different. The Doctor had kissed her, and she liked it.

She wondered if he still considered them married. She hadn't acknowledged their bond on any level after the first three decades or so, and certainly not after he had returned from Earth. To her he had been an embarrassment, an outcast, a pariah. She had wanted nothing to do with him and thought he felt the same, but what if he hadn't? What if he had been waiting all this time, hoping against hope that she would finally come around, finally give in to his love?

And what if she actually had?

Pure terror filled her. She wanted to run, to hide. She had never felt so exposed, so raw, not in any of her lives. She didn't know what to do, how to feel. She wished there was somewhere for her to run to, somewhere to get away, but there wasn't. But she had to do something, had to navigate the maelstrom of emotions churning within her. What could she do? She could . . . she would . . . she would get away! Yes! She would break the glass at the door and get away! Picking up the desk chair, she ran from her room and headed for the door.

Lunnie was a practical, down-to-earth, observant member of her species, and enjoyed a "seventh sense" when it came to sensing tension on the Psych Bubble. She hadn't needed any of those advantages to know there would be trouble when she saw Adora racing to her room while her visitor hurried out. She called out, "Crash," the code word for a crisis on the bubble, and saw everyone prepare themselves for what might be coming. She placed herself close to the bubble door and waited, knowing that though she was "only" a social worker she was strong, tough, and quick on her tentacles. Someone buzzed the auto-nurse outside the second locked door and it responded immediately by turning on its force generator to block the entrance should someone actually make it through the doors. No one had in a long time, but it was better to be safe than to lose a patient and upset everyone.

A nurse behind the nurse's station desk asked, "Who's crashing?"

Lunnie kept herself ready as she told her, "Adora. Her visitor must have upset her pretty badly. Now let's not all rush her at once; she won't take a restraint well. Have all the other patients been moved to Station Five? The last thing we want is a big, messy scene that disrupts everyone."

"Everyone else is at Station Five with Kunal and Brae, but there's still plenty of staff if it comes to it," someone said.

"Only as a last resort," Lunnie reminded them.

Adora came barreling out of her room just then, a desk chair in hand. She got in one good whack at the door and then Lunnie grabbed the chair from behind with two tentacles and pulled it out of her hands. Adora then pounded on the glass with her fists, crying, "Let me out! Let me out! I have to get away, go away! Let me _out!"_

Lunnie waved the others away with a free tentacle as Adora sank to her knees, still hammering on the door and sobbing. She handed the chair off to someone and approached cautiously. "Adora, I can see you're upset, but this isn't the way to act; you can't be throwing chairs at things. Why don't you come with me somewhere private and we can talk."

"I want to get away, get out!" Adora continued to scream. "I want to _go_!"

"Adora, you're not thinking clearly right now," Lunnie told her. "We can talk about whatever is upsetting you, but you're not leaving the Bubble in the state you're in. Let's go to a place away from everyone and we can work this out together."

Lunnie helped Adora get to her feet and walked with her into the Safe Room, keeping a good grip in case Adora tried to get away. Once she settled Adora on a thick cushion she positioned herself between Adora and the door, noticing that backup was right outside as protocol directed. She started with a basic assessment question. "Adora, do you know where you are?"

"I'm in the hospital," Adora wailed.

"And do you know who I am?"

"You're my social worker," Adora responded.

Lunnie dug a bit deeper. "Can you tell me why you're upset?"

Adora was still crying. "I want to go, I have to get away. I don't know what to do!"

"What are you trying to get away from, Adora? Is it something to do with your visit?"

"I don't want to see the Doctor! I don't want him to come any more, not ever! I want to get away . . ."

Lunnie told Adora, "You don't have to see him if you don't want to see him, Adora. We want this to be a safe place for you so you can get better and that means you decide who from the outside sees you and who doesn't. We will keep you safe from him but the best way for that to happen is for you to stay here. Did he hurt you in some way?"

Adora sniffled, "He kissed me. I don't . . . I can't . . ."

Lunnie was direct with her next question. "Was he assaulting you, Adora? Did he force himself on you?"

"It wasn't like that," Adora responded. "He didn't plan it or anything . . . it just happened."

"But you didn't want it to happen?"

"I _liked_ it!" Adora wailed.

Lunnie sat back and thought for a minute before speaking. "There's nothing wrong with liking physical contact, Adora, but it's your body and if you don't want to share it that's fine. Do you want him banned permanently? Is he a danger to you?"

"I don't . . . he wouldn't hurt me . . . I don't want him to come again, he just confuses me . . . I don't know what I want!"

"You have all the time you need to work out how you feel about it, Adora," Lunnie soothed. "If you don't want him back we will honor that request. If at some point you change your mind and want to see him again that's all right, too. You don't have to decide anything at the moment, especially not while you're still upset. This is all about you, Adora, and what you need."

Adora couldn't stop the tears. " But I don't _know_ what I need!"

"Then I want you to take the time and be patient with yourself until you _do_ know. And you can talk to any of us to work out how you're feeling. But," Lunnie said firmly, "you can't be throwing furniture and trying to break things. You have to let us know in other ways that you're upset, productive ways. We've talked before about journaling or coming here to the Safe Room and letting your emotions out. I want to see you using more of these tools to deal with your stress. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll try," Adora answered. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right, Adora. Let's stay in here a while longer so you can get yourself under control. Would you like a journal?"

"Not . . . not right now," Adora hiccuped.

Lunnie asked, "Would you like to process some more?"

"I don't know."

"Then let's just sit together, and you can say whatever you choose if you want to talk."

Lunnie was pleased that Adora was able to calm down within the space of fifteen minutes and go back to her room until lunchtime. She gave the nutritionist a heads-up that Adora might not have a good lunch period then went to the nurse's station and wrote up the incident, a job well done.


	12. Chapter 12

12—Bad Vibes

The Doctor felt no surprise at all when the hospital called and revoked his visitation privileges, only guilt and sadness. He had completely forgotten himself and had hurt Adora in the process; of course she wouldn't want to see him. The Doctor desperately hoped she would change her mind at some point but for the time being he was unwelcome and knew it; he would stay away. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, ashamed but happy that it had happened. If only Adora had felt the same . . .

The pleasure turned to ashes in his mouth as he considered the kiss from Adora's point of view. Had she _ever _been kissed in any of her lives? He didn't know. He knew he probably had been going beyond her comfort zone merely by holding her hand, how much more so with a kiss? He had obviously pushed too hard too soon and she was in a fragile state already. He should have kept that in mind. He had hurt Adora, and for that he was sorry.

But for all of his misgivings, he couldn't regret it.

The Doctor tried to keep his mind on other things. There was still a long way to go in the overhaul of his TARDIS. He was now working on the basic, critical systems of the ship, ones he couldn't afford to make mistakes on. He worked each day until he felt himself losing concentration, then would stop and do something different. Each day he would spend several hours exercising; he usually was running a lot in his adventures but with being grounded he had to keep fit in other ways. He made it a point to visit the TARDIS library and either relax with a book or watch a film. Some days the Doctor went to the west side of the city where there was an electronics dump and sifted through the junk, looking for things to cannibalize and make whatever he might need. Every third day he went to the Market District and got food supplies, either ready-made items or things that would be easy to make and fun to prepare. The Doctor was not the greatest cook but he enjoyed experimenting with local fresh foods and spices. He slept two hours a week, showered twice a day, and tried to adjust to the "new normal" of living in one place and one time. It was about killing him and he was bored stiff, but he refused to go off-planet for even five minutes. He had promised Adora he would not leave the city, and it was a promise the Doctor would keep.

Fifty days after he had been banned he was deep into a volume of Droxian history when the special phone rang. He picked up the phone, took a deep breath and answered. "Hello?"

"This is the Psych Bubble of Nafujan Hospital . . . is this the Doctor?"

"Yes, this is the Doctor."

"I have a message for you from Adora. She was concerned you might have left . . ."

The Doctor answered hurriedly, "Oh no, I wouldn't leave without her. Is she doing well?"

"She is interested in seeing you, within certain guidelines."

The Doctor was curious. "What kind of guidelines?"

The being on the other end explained, "The visit will be monitored and terminated at either Adora's wish or the direction of the observer. If at any time the observer feels it is necessary to dismiss you or Adora asks you to leave you will do so immediately and without comment. Are you willing to visit within these parameters?"

He winced, but answered, "I can follow those rules."

"Then you are welcome to stop by this afternoon."

When the Doctor arrived he was met at the door by a large lavender octopus with four eyes and a lanyard around her neck attached to a key card. She held a clipboard in one tentacle and a pen in another, and straightened a silver bow in her thick hair with two more. She appraised him then said in a businesslike manner, "My name is Lunnie and I will be observing your visit today. I will try to interfere as little as possible but I am here to ensure Adora's physical and emotional safety and I take that task very seriously. To that end you will not initiate _any_ physical contact whatsoever and will not try to insist Adora do so or make her feel bad about refusing. Are we clear?"

The Doctor nodded. "I understand."

"Then come this way, please."

He followed Lunnie around the curve of the bubble to a meeting area. There was a long table positioned at a right angle to the bubble with comfortable-looking chairs set around it. There was a view of a garden through the glass, and he could see caretakers working busily. Adora was already sitting at the table, looking nervous. He went and sat across from her while Lunnie positioned herself at the far end of the table and started writing something on the clipboard. The Doctor felt ill at ease but he knew Adora was uncomfortable as well, which was his fault. He had only himself to blame for the awkwardness and was glad Adora would see him at all, so he forced himself to make the best of it.

"It's good to see you Adora," he told her. "Have you been well?"

"I'm trying," Adora responded, fidgeting in her chair. "I'm still on caution status since I've had some setbacks—"

"About that," the Doctor broke in, "I want to apologize for last time. I had no right to kiss you and I know it made you upset . . ."

Adora looked down at the table. "I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled.

"I just want you to know it—"

"Move on," Lunnie directed.

He scowled, but stopped. "Have you been swimming more?" he asked after a moment.

"I get to go every day now," Adora said. "I'm really trying to build up my endurance, but they still limit my exercising due to the hearts damage. I can't push myself too far yet."

"And what else have you been doing?"

"I'm allowed to go to the garden down there and harvest the fruits and vegetables and cook them for myself and the others, if there's enough," Adora explained. "I thought of becoming a vegetarian but my nutritionist said it's not allowed while I'm here; he said limiting my diet in any way would be detrimental at this point."

"Do you like the cooking?" the Doctor wanted to know.

Adora gave a tiny smile. "I like it; it's fun to work with picked-off-the-vine ingredients. Some of the spices are a bit odd, but it's a safe way to be adventurous. Not all of us can gallivant around the cosmos saving everyone," she teased.

"But I love the running!" he protested, grinning.

"Speaking of which, have you been all right?" she asked a bit anxiously. "I mean you're used to traveling around, being in different places all the time . . ."

"I make do," he told Adora. "My TARDIS still has a way to go before she can travel anyway. I have to think of her, too. But even if she were in tip-top shape, I promised not to leave the city and I won't."

"But you must be so bored . . ."

The Doctor was going to be frank with Adora, but stopped himself just in time. She had enough burdens to bear without feeling guilty about his situation. "I'm fine," he reassured her.

"Don't you have any fun? Is working on your TARDIS all you do?" Adora questioned.

"Oh, not at all," he replied. "I go find parts for her and and exercise and go to the market every few days . . ."

"None of that sounds like fun," Adora told him, frowning.

"I also read and sometimes watch films."

"You are not having any fun," Adora told him sternly. "I want you to go to some of the museums here, especially the science center."

The Doctor laughed. "And what would I do there, debunk ninety-nine percent of the exhibits?"

"It would get you out more instead of being locked in a box all the time. A TARDIS is special, but it's still a box in its own way." Adora paused, then said sadly, "I'm sorry you're not having fun. If you weren't waiting for me you'd be off exploring and saving galaxies and having all the fun you could want. I'm so sorry . . ."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," the Doctor told her firmly. "You deserve the best of care and deserve to take as much time as you need to heal. Besides, I would probably be locked in a dungeon right now or trying to escape my execution if I weren't here. You're doing me a favor."

"There's something else I'm sorry for," Adora said in a small voice. "You've never been anything but kind and compassionate toward me, but I've treated you shamefully all the time we've known each other. I've been thinking hard about who I want to be from here on out, but I can't move forward while I'm still feeling bad about the past. So I apologize, for everything."

"I accept your apology," the Doctor told her gently. He almost reached for her hand but froze, remembering that he was being watched for just that kind of behavior and was inches away from being thrown out, literally. He could almost feel Lunnie's glare from the other end of the table. He cleared his throat and pulled his hands back toward himself.

"I want you to know I hold no grudges toward you for our past," the Doctor told Adora after a moment. "We were both different people, literally, and we were bad for each other from the first. We both need to move on from those days. I just hope . . . do you think we could do it together?"

Adora looked back down at the table. "I . . . I don't know," she said, her voice wobbling.

The Doctor was going to push for a more definitive answer, but stopped himself. Adora was trying to recover from a deadly illness, one that distorted her world view and feelings about herself. The last thing she needed was pressure from him to start a relationship. For the first time he was glad there was an observer there; Lunnie's presence was making him change his words and be less demanding of Adora. Without her there the Doctor would probably have insisted that Adora make a decision, accept his friendship and advances, force her to be something she wasn't yet, and might not ever be. Just because they were being nice to each other didn't mean the Doctor had any right to read more into what they had together than what Adora was giving. He had to back off, now.

"I don't want to pressure you, Adora," he said softly. "Just know that I'm here as whatever you need me to be."

Adora still wouldn't look at him. "Okay," she whispered.

The Doctor felt very uncomfortable. Was Adora really that scared of him? Had he traumatized her with that one kiss? He felt like a brute; he must have wounded her badly for her to be this unsure of herself, unsure of _him_. He stood up and said tightly, "I think I'd better be going."

"I . . . I'm sorry," Adora whimpered. "I didn't mean to make you—"

"You've done nothing wrong Adora," Lunnie said firmly. "I think the Doctor is leaving for his own reasons, good reasons. It has nothing to do with you, Adora, and you don't need to apologize. Am I right, Doctor?"

It had _everything_ to do with Adora, but the Doctor knew what was called for. "I'm not upset with you Adora, and I'll come see you whenever you want. I . . . it's just time for me to go."

Once the Doctor left the hospital he trudged his way back to his TARDIS. About halfway there he sat down on a bench and put his head in his hands. He felt completely discouraged and disgusted with himself. Had he really expected Adora to jump into his arms? They had been estranged in all the time they were living in the same dwelling and hadn't spent more than a few hours together in centuries! Even worse, Adora was deathly ill. He had no right to push himself on her at this stage. He felt deeply ashamed.

As he sat there, he suddenly felt the presence of someone else on the bench. He looked up, and there next to him was a female Hensua. Hensuas had cone-shaped heads and brown scales instead of skin, but they were still humanoid as far as number and position of arms, legs, eyes, and ears. They were also well-known for being psychics, fortune-tellers, and palm-readers. As he lifted his head, the Hensua smiled at him and said brightly, "I believe you are in need of my services. Would you allow me to ply my trade?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm not interested in hocus-pocus, and I have no money."

The smile widened. "This one's on the house, traveler; I sensed you from three blocks over. And though you might not believe in me, I certainly believe in _you_. I can already feel something about your future, but I'd rather check your palm and confirm it. Any objections?"

The Doctor sighed mightily, but held out his hand.

The Hensua studied his palm carefully, moving his hand this way and that while humming softly. After a long time she told him quietly, "Your sadness will turn to joy, but then your joy will turn to sorrow. And remember, Time Lord—a dream fulfilled by half is worse than a dream not fulfilled at all. I wish I had better news for you, but that's all you get."

She dropped his hand and sauntered off.

The Doctor waited until he couldn't see her any more, then got up and headed back to his TARDIS.


	13. Chapter 13

13—Baby Steps

Adora sat listlessly at the lunch table, stirring her food instead of eating it. She knew her nutritionist would comment, but she just couldn't do any more. "I'm done," she announced.

The nutritionist sighed. "Adora, you know if you don't finish at least fifty percent—"

"I don't care," Adora snapped. "I don't want any more."

"All right, Adora," the nutritionist replied. "I don't want to harp on this, but this is the sixteenth meal out of twenty-one this week where you haven't reached fifty percent and the second week in a row you haven't eaten to maintenance level. You really need to think about that."

He took her plate and told her, "I recommend you take some time to consider what's going on and _highly_ recommend you talk to someone about it. You've been here twenty-one weeks but you're still on caution status. Your gaining has stalled, you've been withdrawing more and more at the table and you won't even cook anymore. Talk to someone, Adora. Talk, and soon."

Adora shuffled back to her room and sat on her bed. It was all too much. She was tired of the hospital, tired of having people try to talk to her about stuff she didn't want to think about, tired of everything. She wanted to go back to the days before the Doctor found her, when she was invisible and unmemorable. She had never bonded with anyone at work, she hadn't gotten involved with any activities outside of work so she didn't have any friends and she hadn't cared. It was just her and no one else, no one to bother her, no one to set up rules or expectations, no one to see she even existed. She wanted it back, but of course they weren't about to let her have it and even if the hospital discharged her that minute the Doctor would balk at the idea of returning her to Earth. Everyone here wanted the same thing—her to be healthy and happy with herself. What they didn't understand was that she had never been happy, wasn't happy and never would be happy as long as she was alive. The concept was just beyond her. She had tried it for a while, had gotten involved in activities and projects and tried to build relationships, but it hadn't lasted and all she had to fall back on was isolation. Trouble was, they wouldn't let her be invisible here. They let her choose a lot of things, but they wouldn't let her choose to be a hermit in her room all the time. Someone was always sticking their head in and asking about her, reaching out to her . . . and she couldn't bring herself to reach back.

Well, she had a choice. She could coast along until they gave up, or she could state the problem clearly and leave it for them to deal with, knowing her position. She decided it was only fair to be honest. She marched out and headed for the nurse's station. "Is Lunnie here?" she asked.

Lunnie popped her head out above the desk and told her pleasantly, "I can be with you in a minute, Adora; we're trying to untangle some cords down here and all my tentacles are tied up. Why don't you wait for me in the Safe Room?"

Adora went to the Safe Room and sat down on a cushion, the only movable furniture in the space. The couches and chairs were bolted down and well-padded. The walls were padded, as was the door that could be closed and locked from the outside, and there was only a narrow slit in the door to let someone see into the room. There was a section for throwing soft items or beating on dummies with foam "bats" and a punching bag with gloves in a corner, but nothing sharp or dangerous. Though she was encouraged to come here often she rarely did and when she did come she would only sit on a cushion and ignored the "breakout equipment".

Lunnie came in a few minutes later. She straightened the bow in her hair with two tentacles as she "walked" with most of the others. "I'm glad you're seeking me out, Adora, that shows real maturity. So, what's on your mind?"

"I felt that you—you staff—need to know where I'm coming from."

Lunnie settled herself comfortably. "And where are you coming from?"

Adora tried to gather her thoughts, then blurted out, "I don't want you to help me. I don't want anyone to pay attention to me or work with me or anything. I want to be left alone, to be invisible. It's how things were in my last life, and I want it back. That's all I have to say."

"I want to ask a question—did that life make you happy?"

Adora shook her head and stood to leave. "Happy doesn't matter. I was separated from everyone and everything. I want that again and I don't want to talk about it."

"A life like that is unhealthy, unproductive, and gives nothing back to society at large," Lunnie declared. "I just have a question or two more and then I'll leave you alone. When in all your lives have you felt the most connected with others, the most involved with the outside world, the least drawn into yourself?"

Adora stopped at the door and said slowly, "That would have been either my first life as a human, or here at the hospital, for a while."

"And what similarities did both those periods share? What made them different from the rest of your lives?" Lunnie pressed.

Adora considered for a minute. She really thought about what Lunnie was asking her and forgot about her decision to end the conversation. Finally she said, "I wasn't self-conscious. I felt comfortable in my environment, and I was able to make mistakes without worrying about the consequences. Also, no one made any emotional demands of me."

"And who did you turn to emotionally, Adora?" Lunnie asked softly.

"No one," Adora confessed as she sat down again. "On Gallifrey, expressing feelings was . . . primitive. The Doctor was one of the few in touch with his feelings and he didn't hide it. On Earth, my husband James wasn't any more open with his feelings than I was, and after that I was alone."

Lunnie studied Adora carefully. "I think you might be afraid of the things you feel. You've seemed happy at times during your stay here, but you've resisted any attempts people have made to get beyond the superficial and let yourself really dig in to how your emotions work. One concern of the staff is that you tend to "stuff" your feelings, both positive and negative. We've discussed not expressing one's emotions both in individual and in group therapy sessions, and the damage that can do. What do you think?"

"Feelings are bad!" Adora insisted.

"Feelings are normal and can give you a lot of information," Lunnie corrected. "Ignoring that information ends up being detrimental both physically and emotionally. We want you to learn a balance between being controlled by your emotions and denying them. If you want to have real relationships, you have to know how to manage what you feel."

Adora sat quietly, considering. After a bit she said, "I don't want people to care about me."

"Why not?" Lunnie wanted to know.

"If people care about me, I have to care back," Adora responded.

Lunnie asked, "What's wrong with caring about other people?"

"What if I do it wrong? I've only cared about me for so long, I don't know how to be nice to others." Adora looked miserable.

Lunnie shook her head. "I don't agree with that assessment, Adora; you've been friendly and accepting of all the other patients here even when you seemed to feel awkward about it. Could it be you're scared of getting involved with people and situations you can't control?"

"I . . . I don't know. I just don't relate to other people well."

"For someone who grew up in the environment you describe, I think you've been doing very well," Lunnie encouraged. "Just keep practicing. One thing you need to know—the staff here are good people to practice those skills on, and we'll all feel more comfortable if you come to us more often. I want you to consider that talking about how you feel is just as important as finishing a meal. Anorexia is as much a mental disease as it is a physical one."

"I don't want to talk to staff," Adora said in a flat tone.

"We've been talking for the last five minutes, Adora, and you've done well. Next time—"

"Next time!?" Adora raised her voice. "There wasn't supposed to be a _this_ time! You tricked me into talking with you! I hate you! You tricked me . . ."

"I wasn't trying to trick you, Adora. I asked a few questions and you responded. There's nothing wrong with that, or with what you told me. Now if you're feeling angry I want you to handle it maturely. Why don't you try going into the Breakout Corner and doing some damage?"

Adora rushed into the corner and grabbed a foam bat. She turned back to Lunnie, eyes blazing, and took a few steps forward.

Lunnie told her calmly, "Not like that, Adora; we never strike other people. But you can feel free to go at one of the Poor Pounded Pauls over there . . ."

Adora moved back toward one of the dummies in the corner and took a good whack. She did it again and again while Lunnie waited patiently. Finally Adora couldn't lift the bat any more and she dropped it, panting. She staggered out of the corner and flopped onto one of the cushions to catch her breath.

Lunnie asked quietly, "Feeling a bit better?"

Adora couldn't speak, but she nodded.

"Then I want to tell you something. Anger is an emotion, but it's also a mask. When people get angry, it's because they feel either embarrassed, scared, or hurt. Do you think your anger was because of hurt feelings?"

Adora shook her head, still breathing hard.

"Were you feeling embarrassed about talking to me? Did you get upset because you weren't planning on getting 'down-and-dirty' about how you felt? Were you scared of it?"

"I . . . I don't . . . I don't need help! I don't _want_ help!" Adora gasped.

Lunnie told Adora, "There's nothing weak or wrong with asking for the help you need, Adora. In fact, it's a show of strength to admit that you can't do it on your own. Think about that one for a while."

Lunnie "stood" on her tentacles, then left the Safe Room.


End file.
